


Five Times Daryl Dixon Should Have Kissed Beth Greene, and the One Time he Did

by orphan_account



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Flirting, Masturbation, Sad Stories, as in zach dies but he dies in the show so, cute kisses, ever so slight dubcon, general inappropriateness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl Dixon is not a man to linger on regrets. But there are some things that he should have done, and he knows this very well. In fact, some nights he feels himself become flustered and agitated just thinking about what he wish he had done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come on Daryl, u know better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sexy bits in here. . .they will appear later on.

The first time that Daryl should've kissed Beth was the night after they took the prison yard. That day had been far more stressful than he cared to admit. The taking of it had been easy; it was the creeping feeling of safety, and the alertness that the group always possessed dying down, that annoyed him. Their lack of fear forced him to keep his at the forefront, the only one taking anything seriously.

But her voice? It helped. He would deny it a hundred thousand times, but her singing, for a moment, calmed him. He remembered simpler times, when his mother sang him to sleep, cigarette between her lips and a fresh bruise on her cheek. The thought of it may not be pretty, but it was when _he_ felt simpler, young, without fears. Mama and Pops would always be around to protect him and keep him safe and clothed and fed. Granted, this was no where near the truth, but for a child, there was nothing closer to truth than this.

He wanted to tell Beth thank you, but he was always a man of action, not of words, and he didn't know Beth well enough, her father and sister were right there. . .he had a plethora of reasons not to, but for a moment he entertained the thought of pressing his lips to her soft, sweaty cheek and whispering "thank you." But he did not, and Daryl Dixon went to bed frustrated, with dreams of a sweet voice and blonde hair haunting him.

Months later, it still bothered him, especially when he was drunk and she was sitting there, cute and flushed and asking questions that said she had already decided that he was the stereotype. He'd learned quickly after that that he had thought the same of her; even faster that she was nothing like that.  _He_ was nothing like that. 


	2. The Second Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Should-Have-Been Kiss Numero Dos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, nothin' intensely sexual, but we're gettin' the ball rolling.

The second time Daryl Dixon should have kissed Beth Greene was the day it rained walkers. He'd tried to save Zach, if only because he didn't want to see the look on Beth's face when he told her. And then Zach didn't make it. He was expecting tears, lots of them, and for Maggie or Carol to come running to comfort her. He expected to step out of the room awkwardly, his heart breaking to hear her cries and desperate wails.

That's what Beth did, wasn't it? Cried like a baby at each loss, cried for those who couldn't cry, like him. He didn't look forward to it. But he told her, and her response was a sad smile. Changed the "30" to "0" and stood there like she'd just read a sad book. Daryl had been shocked, confused. His incredulous look spoke far louder than he could've, and when she hugged him he nearly screamed at her. "Just tired of losing people." What bullshit. Terrified that, if he died, he had at least expected her to cry for him; now he wasn't sure if anyone would.

That's when he almost kissed her, shook her, smacked her for a reaction. He wanted Beth to  _do_ something, anything other than act like this meant so little to her. She was happy she got to know him? She hated goodbyes? Well, now Zach was dead, and without anyone to cry for him, to miss him. She didn't say goodbye to him, all she had given him was a little kiss and a snarky smile. Teenage girls were supposed to cry at everything, right? She should be sobbing for this sad, proud boy who kissed her and said he loved her.

Daryl wanted to kiss her, shove his tongue down her throat and make her taste the tobacco in his mouth, make her smell the scent of death still clinging to him, and realize that's what Zach smelled like right now, death and decay and absolute destruction. But he didn't. He let her hug him, gripped her awkwardly and tried to quell his agitation. And then she stepped away, and he stepped away, and later that night, he made the rounds.

He heard sniffles, faint ones, from their block.

He should've kissed her.


	3. The Third Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow Daryl u sure fucked up so many times y u never kiss her when u meant to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh some sexy times. Very very little sexy times, and not even that much of a sexy time, but it is very much implied and kind of not really implied, more or less it is shown but it isn't. . .well, just read it, lol.

The infection was spreading. A new person entered the quarantined zone every morning. Sometimes more than one. Daryl spent most of his time hunting, but so often he found himself worrying. Glenn, Sash, even Lizzie were sick. . .Herschel was risking his life for people. . .and the people themselves, puking up blood and struggling to breathe. So he hunted, and worried, and slept, and hunted, and worried some more. Daryl could tell that Rick was agitated, too. The former cop was always up late at night. He could hear Rick walk the block when the stars were out; Daryl would join him if he didn't need the sleep.

There were a few things that kept him going. The kids were alright, the elderly safe and hidden. Judith was safe. So was  _Beth_. She was bored, but she was safe, and that was what mattered the most. Maggie and Carl visited her every day, checking to see that Judith was alright, and that Beth was keeping occupied. Maggie joked that Beth bothered for better reading material than Gossip Girl and People magazine, and he wondered if it was worth bringing her a few of Carl's comics. In all, Beth's safety made each day easier, and so he kept thoughts of her in the very back of his head, hard to reach. That didn't mean he didn't think of her sometimes.

That didn't mean he didn't catch himself daydreaming about her blonde fly-aways and skinny fingers. That didn't mean he didn't think of her immediately when he found a copy of Harry Potter in an old bookbag. That didn't mean he wasn't seeing her in his nightmares, glassy-eyed and bloody-mouthed and gnashing her teeth at him. That didn't mean he didn't have her smile drifting in his dreams when he woke up one morning, his cock hard against his belly and hand slowly sneaking down.

That particular incident had him clawing off the blankets and racing to the showers. Never in his life had he been so grateful for the ice water that rained down on him the moment he stepped under the spray, and in that moment he decided that going to visit the object of his distraction would help to quell his thoughts on her.

oooooo

ooooooooooo

oooooo

A few hours later, and Daryl was sitting against the door of her little cell (after sliding the book in through the little mail slot).

"Whatchya been doin' in there, all on yer own?"

"Nothin'." Beth's voice was tired and frustrated. "I can't do anythin' but keep Judith company. When she sleeps, I sleep. When she needs a change, I change her. I read when it's naptime and play when she's awake. That's it, really. It's so lonely in here, Daryl. I'm gettin' cabin fever."

"I'd come in there and help out, if I could," he joked. "Take care of the baby while you escaped into the forest. I could pretend to be you."

"Grow a pair of tits and maybe you could."

The surprise on his face at her crudeness could not be seen through the door, but his stuttering in the silence made her laugh.

"Shock the redneck to silence, did I?" she giggled and bounced Judith in her lap. The baby was starting to fall asleep. "I would be happy to have your company in here, Daryl. Though having it outside is just as nice. You're fun to talk to. Maggie is always so serious and sad and. . .scared."

Daryl frowned.

"Let's not think 'bout that right now," he laid his head against the door, and for a moment, just a moment, he wondered what would happen if he opened the door. What would happen if he took her into his arms and rubbed her shoulders. What if he drew her into his lap while Judith lay asleep, wrapped his arms 'round her waist and kissed her till her giggles turned breathless. And God, he wanted to. He wanted to press his lips to her's and feel her against him again. He grunted.

"You sound so sad," frustration was replaced with worry. "I'm scared for my daddy, and for Glenn. I'm. . .I'm scared for you. Promise me you'll be alright Daryl Dixon. Promise me, and I'll promise you I'll be okay, too."

"I promise," his response was immediate and strong. He could feel her smile through the door.

"Good," she dropped down to a whisper. "Judith is sleeping now, and I'm gonna start up on this book. Weren't interested in it before but. . .thank you, Daryl. Git goin' upstairs, and remember your promise."

That night he slept like a log, and in the morning, he didn't worry.


	4. The Fourth Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's really missing out on all his chances, isn't he??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more from Beth's PoV than Daryl's this time, ayyy. This is about where we deviate from canon-show, because there is no way in heaven or hell that Beth and Daryl had anything like a bath in the episodes that we saw.  
> Unbetaed because I am impatient. Barely edited. Whoop whoop.  
> PS, I added chapter 3 as well!!

The good thing about being on the run is that sleeping is so much easier. One's body will adjust, grab the sleep when it can. Beth remembered watching behind the scenes of silly adventure films, movie stills of actors falling asleep in the middle of the set because they were being worked to the bone. They could sleep anywhere. Now  _she_ could sleep anywhere. Daryl didn't sleep much, though. Didn't seem to need it. That's what he told her, at least.

That was a lie. 

Beth could see his eyes drooping when he told her he'd take watch. She could see the way his fingers were shaking, how his yawns were more common now. It was only when they found a house, mostly clean but for the dust, that he agreed to finally sleep. Beth was astounded when she found sheets packed away in those silly spacebag things, tore the dusty blankets off the master bed (also clean) and made up the bed for them. She insisted that they both wash up as best they could before getting into bed, and that was when Daryl produced a bottle of shampoo that he'd found in the closet. 

There was a well out in the back, and so they spent an hour hauling in buckets of water that Beth put on the stove to boil. She cleaned out the bathtub with some Windex and the water. They found clothes in the house, too, not worn since their last wash. Daryl found a note stuck on the refrigerator

_1\. Feed the fish._

_2\. Bring in the mail, and any packages._

_3\. Make sure you lock the door when you leave._

The family living there must've gone on vacation, he told her. That would explain why everything was cleaned up, and only dust was left behind. It was strange, though, that no one had found the place yet. Beth didn't question the gift plopped into their laps. She took up the shampoo and stripped in the bathroom, threw her clothes in the bucket to take back downstairs. There weren't no suitcases for carrying what they needed, but there were garbage bags and a woman's beach tote that they could use. They could take some clothes, just not too many. Food was more important, and soap. She wondered if they had any deodorant, then realized it was silly to want deodorant when geek guts smelled far worse than b.o. ever did.

All of these things she mulled over as she got into the tub and scrubbed herself down. It seemed strange to see her skin white and clean and not covered in blood. Her hair was a little harder.

"Daryl? Did you find any conditioner when you got the shampoo?"

Her answer was him stepping into the bathroom with a bottle that he tossed to her, and without thinking, she sat up in the tub to catch it. He blinked at her, cheeks gone red and jaw slack, before he ducked his head and shuffled back out the door, muttering about being warned and not realizing. Beth giggled to herself and worked the tangles from her hair, ignoring how her nipples had tightened and her breasts ached under his gaze.

She drained and refilled the tub with fresh water, wrapped herself in a huge fluffy towel and went downstairs to give Daryl his turn. She didn't expect to see him sprawled across the couch, conked out. Beth chuckled to herself and sat on the floor in front of him, let her eyes slip closed for a few minutes. It would be cold tonight, she thought to herself. There hadn't been a fire, except for the stove, and the sun was going down. The minutes passed far too quickly, and finally she stood and lowered her head to his face.

Rather than shake him awake, she paused. Beth reached out, spread her fingers across his face gently, touched his lips with her thumb, his cheeks and forehead with her index finger. Her heart swelled, and in a moment made of sheer adrenaline, she brushed her lips across his forehead; perhaps too roughly, because suddenly he had jolted away, and his hand was in her hair, yanking her head back roughly, and he had her pulled up against him. She grinned sheepishly.

"Bath is your's," her voice was a whisper, her breath brushed over his lips. _Kiss me,_ she thought.  _Kiss me now, kiss me right. Please, kiss me._  Daryl blinked at her blearily, and after a moment of clarification, dropped her in a heartbeat.

"Fuck, 'm sorry, thought you were gonna. . .sorry."

He darted up the stairs faster than she could think, and was locked in the bathroom even faster. Beth took her time exploring the house they were in, fidgeting and finagling with all the trinkets she found. Matches and cans of food in the kitchen, clothespins and detergent in the laundry room, some tools in the garage. . .and a massive safe in the basement. She gaped at it, wondering what could possibly be inside; that is, until she found the cop badge sitting on the night stand in the master bedroom. Beth fluffed the pillows and made sure the bed was perfect, and when Daryl finally shuffled in (long after she had dressed in flannel pjs she found in one of the drawers), she was patting the bed with a smile.

"It's nighttime, and we haven't lit any candles or made ourselves known here at all," she mentioned. "All the doors 'n windows are locked. We're secluded. Don't have to take watch if you don't want. We're safe here."

She could see the relief straining to be seen in the whites of his eyes, and Daryl shook his head.

"Shouldn't let our guard down," he murmured, and glanced nervously at the closet. The towel wrapped around his waist made him feel vulnerable, and he wanted to put some clothes on. Beth raked her eyes over him appreciatively.

"We haven't let our guard down in days," she crossed her arms and laid back against the pillows. " _You_ haven't slept in days. Now come to bed, Mr. Dixon."

Her cheeks went pink at her own words, and his cheeks went red. He grumbled at her and waved his hand, but she recognized his mutterings as giving in. She laid down on her side, gave him some privacy as he put on some clothes. She smiled when the bed shifted. Beth turned over to face him.

"Gonna get some real sleep tonight?" she yawned and reached out, tapped her fingers under his chin.

"Yeh," he caught her hand for a moment, and let it slip away from him. _Kiss me,_ she thought again, hoping that maybe, maybe he would. Instead, Daryl Dixon closed his eyes and fell into the deepest sleep he's had in  _months_. Beth followed him not a moment later.


	5. The Fifth Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely AU now. I'm adding days in that most certainly did not happen, as well as changing some of the storyline. The canon timeline takes place over just a few days, I believe, perhaps 2-4, whereas I have already added in 2 extra days. This chapter takes place after their drinking and burning down the cabin. But yeah, I'm deviating entirely.  
> PS I highly recommend you listen to "Just Pretend" by Emily Kinney whilst reading. . .once you hear it once or twice, you'll get where this chapter came from.  
> Notes are at the end of the chapter which detail the contents of this chapter for those not interested in sexy sex type stuff.

She slept. And  _oh_ how she slept. Her dreams were full of sweet things, pizza and hot showers and air conditioning. She dreamed of the prison, of her daddy saying he was safe and happy, of Lori and T-Dog, and even Axel passed by. She dreamed of horses. She dreamed the prison and her house were the same thing and that stepping inside the tall fences was stepping into the cow pasture.

Beth saw so many things, remembered small bits about each person; Carl’s hat, Rick’s scuff, Lori’s belly and Carol’s knife, Maggie and her laughter, Glenn’s terrible jokes. She remembered them in her dreams. Those traits personified her loved ones so easily. Their faces passed by so quickly that it was hard to believe they truly existed.

Two people she did not dream of. The first was Judith, sweet baby Judith with her chubby baby fingers and helpless giggles and the sweetness that surrounded her. Judith did not make an appearance, and later, when she first woke up, Beth wondered why that was. Nothing in her dreams reminded her of Rick’s baby.

The other was Daryl. Oh, she heard the motorcycle; she saw angel wings and heard the sounds of arrows shot across the sky. She heard a redneck drawl, and at one point, thought she heard it so close, hot breath that smelled like tobacco blowing across her ear. Beth felt strong arms encircling her, his body pressed to her back, smelling like sweat and blood and the rot of geeks.

And she dreamed.

ooooo

ooooooooooooo

ooooo

Daryl woke up slowly, groggily. The moonshine hadn't given him a headache (the joys of hard liquor) but he had slept so deeply that coming out of it felt like a coma. He yawned and turned his head, blinked blearily at what could have been a bird's nest a foot away from him. Beth's head was buried under the blankets, her hair poking out. He smiled. They had come back to the house after their wild night. It was too good to pass up, staying in a warm, clean bed and being safe, secure, even if it was just for a few days. Daryl drew back the curtains at the window and winced as the sun shone in. Beth made a small sound when the light hit the blanket. He dropped the curtain and carefully picked up his vest from the vanity nearby, before quietly leaving the room.

He picked up his crossbow and made to leave, go hunt for the day, before pausing. The note still hung on the fridge. He began to go through the kitchen drawers and retrieved a pen. After scribbling down a little note and leaving it on the kitchen table, Daryl went out into the world for a few hours.

ooooo

ooooooooooooo

ooooo

Beth woke with a shriek, soaked in sweat and heart pattering away. A groan came from outside and she froze, felt her eyes prick with tears.  _Daryl where's Daryl have to find him where is he???_  The sun was shining. The bed felt cold, and Beth threw the blankets off, raced downstairs, imagining that a herd was beating at the walls. She tore through each room, too scared to call his name, too scared to even believe that the walkers had gotten in. And suddenly she realized that the doors were all locked. The windows were closed, the house. . .peaceful. Her heart slowed, and she wiped the tears from her eyes. No one was in danger.

_Huntin_

The note on the kitchen table was god-sent, Beth decided, before crumpling the paper against her chest. Perhaps they could have stew tonight, if Daryl brought back some squirrel, or a rabbit. She explored the house a bit, before stepping outside. Three walkers milled about, easily dispatched by her knife. The backyard was far and wide. An old, rusted swing set was just in front of a garage that seemed to double as a shed, if the tools and lawnmower were anything to go by. Beth gathered up a few things into a dufflebag and carried it back to the house. There was a garden, too, where it seemed wild onions and potatoes were growing. She dug up one or two with a smile; they would definitely have stew tonight, even if she had to hunt the squirrels herself.

After an hour, perhaps two, of fetching more water and boiling it, she sat down to breathe. There was water enough for two baths (or 4 small baths) and for dinner.  It wasn't quite noon, and Beth decided that she wouldn't waste the rest of her time waiting for him. Daryl wouldn't be back until late, if he was hunting; there would be no reason to come back until he caught enough meat for a week. She emptied the dufflebag of tools and fixed the straps so she could swing it onto her back. Armed with a hammer, water bottle, and her knife, she smoothed out the paper and wrote her own note, just in case.

 _Scavenging_.

Beth walked to the tiny, one-street neighborhood they passed on their way. It was quiet. Each house she entered revealed very little. Some jars and cans were worth picking up. One kitchen contained a whole container of canned vegetables. Stocking up her bag took even longer than the other houses, and as she passed the basement door to look upstairs, she head them. Groans, teeth gnashing, the sounds of five or more walkers aching to leave. She left it for the time being, and cleared out the last three houses on the street. A while later, and she had scouted the perimeter around, sure that every walker within 500 feet was dead. After that, clearing the basement was easy. She opened the door and made plenty of noise on her way outside, ran back and forth until the four trapped inside were chasing her about in the yard.

Every single walker she found had it's pockets thoroughly checked; she hadn't found the keys for the gun safe in their new home, and she'd be damned if she didn't at least try to find them elsewhere. Every set of keys got thrown in her duffle. All the houses cleared out, all keys collected, and all walkers dead, Beth made her way home. It took trying at least twenty keys before the safe opened and revealed three shotguns, two rifles, a revolver, and enough ammo to last until the day she died, she thought to herself. Now their new home was supplying plenty of food and weapons. She scratched out the note she left under his.

But Daryl was not back yet, and Beth knew he wouldn't be, not until the sun was setting. She set up the guns on the kitchen table, prettily displayed, like in the glass cases at the gun store that her daddy used to frequent. She was so proud as she sat in the bathtub, eating a stale candy bar and soaking in the warm water. Daryl would be ready to  _kiss_  her when he saw all the things she had found, and. . .  _where did that come from?_

She kicked some of the water from the tub and scoffed.

"Daryl Dixon is dangerous, Beth Greene," she scolded herself in her father's voice. "And you best not get involved with him. He's a good man, but he's dangerous, and I won't have you endin' up like Lori Grimes, you hear me?"

So, naturally, Beth exited the bath, dried off, and laid the towel out on their bed. She brushed her hair and trimmed her nails and, upon finding a razor, shaved her calves just for the hell of it. The sun was high in the sky. After taking a walk around the house and checking to be sure she was completely,  _absolutely_  alone, she drew the curtains on the window and laid herself down, shivering in her nakedness.

"He won't be back until late," it was difficult convincing herself. "I'll hear him come in. No reason not to, right? It's been a while." 

Her hands smoothed down her arms with gentle touches, lifted and brushed over her breasts. A gasp left her mouth, and she settled in, letting her fingers dance and pluck at her nipples. Her heart thudded in her chest, and Beth let one hand drift down down down, over her stomach to tickle at the thatch of blonde curls. Beth let her hands move slowly and intimately, sighed and moaned gently. Her fingers dipped between her folds, brushed over her clit dragging wetness behind them. Suddenly, she noticed a distinct lack of cold in her fingers and toes, instead felt fire coursing through her veins.

Her right hand kneaded and pinched at her breasts, her left stroked and teased. Too young, too spoiled, she pushed her fingers inside the moment she could, let her voice grow in volume as she felt more and more comfortable. Her hand worked furiously between her legs. Her hips rocked against the heel of her hand, and she keened and sighed and tossed her head from side to side.

"Daryl," she whispered to herself, not even realizing the word had left her lips. The picture in her head was painted so clear that she could nearly see his face over her's, his fingers on her snatch and his lips on her breast. "Please, I just- oh.  _Ohh._ "

And then she heard the creak on the stairs.

ooooo

ooooooooooooo

ooooo

A whole deer. A  _whole_ deer. Daryl Dixon shot and took down an entire deer for them to chop up and eat. It would last for days, if they dried it out and kept it cold. They could have venison steak and venison stew and venison jerky and use the hide to make some shoes or a blanket or god knows what. He could feel himself salivating over the thought, and almost dropped the beast on the ground before realizing it might not be the most sanitary place for it. He went to drop it on the table and found it full of canned goods and. . .

He dropped the deer to the floor. The blood could be cleaned up later. But now? His breath caught in his throat, and his heart beat so fast it nearly ran out of his chest. She'd left him a note, but scratched it out, and so immediately he made his way up the steps, quick and quiet. He'd surprise her! Sneak up and maybe scare her a little, just for fun, and then show her his catch and they could feast and practice the rest of the night.

Then he heard the little sounds, and suddenly, the world stopped. The shuffle of skin on sheets, the wet slapping of flesh on flesh, the  _sounds_  that were most definitely coming from her throat, moans and whimpers and gasps that suddenly had his own heart stuttering. Daryl shifted his pants for his suddenly hard prick, and suddenly had to wonder. Was she alone? Was she with someone? Had she met someone on the road and. . .chose to take advantage? He really shouldn't interrupt, if that was the case, but he couldn't stop himself from slowly inching up the staircase, something in the back of his mind wondering, aching to catch a glimpse.

 "Daryl. . ."

His name, said so sweetly, so softly that he barely heard it. He stumbled, tripped his way up the last few steps, cursing himself as he went. He heard the bed squeak, heard her curse under her breath. Daryl coughed and felt his face heat with embarrassment.

"Daryl, is that you?"

He made a face and continued up the stairs, praying to play it off.

"Yeah!" he hopped on his feet for a moment and made his way to her room.  _Slowly_. "Got somethin' to show ya and wanted it to be a surprise. Can I come in?"

"Gimme a minute."

Daryl shuffled his feet and waited patiently, and when the door finally opened, he knew he didn't stand a chance. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair mused, her lips rosy and plump. Beth smiled and spoke breathlessly, but Daryl didn't hear what she said. All he could do was look at her, standing there in an oversized t-shirt and fluffy slippers, flushed pink and oh so-

"Daryl? Are you alright? You look a little red," Beth stepped forward and put her hand to his forehead, and oh,  _oh_ he could smell sex on her, heady, sickly sweet, and he jerked away from her in a moment.

"Yeh, just," he jerked his thumb back at the stairs. "Just real excited for ya t'see what I got."

She smiled and bolted down the stairs, and he could hear her gasp of excitement before he even started down himself.

"Oh, Daryl, it's perfect!" he smiled at Beth's happiness, and for a moment, lingered on the stairs, staring up at the doorway where the bed was in sight. He sucked in a breath, shook his head.

He should've. But he didn't.

 _Again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daryl hunts, Beth scavenges, Beth masturbates, Daryl sees her, Daryl pretends like he doesn't know, Daryl has a minor conniption, I laugh heinously.


	6. It's About Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The One Time He Did

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I am sorry, I kind of got really angry at the MSF and said fuck this. Fuck Kirkman and fuck Gimple tbh. Changed my tumblr to "bethmotherfuckinggoddamngreene". I was really mad. So here is the ending we fucking deserved, and not that piece of trash bullshit we were force fed.
> 
> . . .
> 
> No, I didn't cry for 20 minutes after she died.

The hospital.

She was at the hospital.

She was at the hospital, alive.

Beth was at the hospital, _alive_.

Beth and Carol were at the hospital, _alive_.

And suddenly, Daryl felt a little bit of hope, like his soul wasn't sucked away the day she was taken. The sun wasn't unbearably hot, it was a heaven-sent light at the end of the tunnel. The family would be together again. Even Rick looked like he would smile after such a long drought of happiness. 

The walk to the hospital was nerve-wracking, and everyone was alert. Rick's back was stiff under his shirt, Michonne's eyes ever watchful. Daryl's hands shook and he wanted to run, run through the lot and the building and all the way up to them. Entering the hospital was suffocating. The hallway was so short, felt like inches long, too close to unfriendly guns in unfriendly hands; until Carol and Beth came into sight. The hallway suddenly lengthened by miles, and Daryl was drowning in fear. The women crossed to their side, and their prisoners to the other side, and it was fine. They were safe. They could leave.

Then Dawn spoke.

Daryl snarled in disgust, and suddenly all of their hopes disappeared, dissipated to join the thick and heavy air around them. Her words meant nothing to him, to any of them. _They just wanted to leave._

"I get it now," a whisper, and Daryl felt, rather than saw, Beth step forward quietly. He moved ahead of her. He wouldn't let them have her again, not by a long shot, and he would not let them have Noah. Her hand was on his wrist, soft and insistent. "Daryl, let me-"

"You can't own a human being." His gun was at Dawn's forehead, and there was shouting, movement everywhere, but Beth was behind him, Carol was behind him, and yet again he stood between the bringer of death and his people. Dawn's mouth trembled.

"In this world? I can. I need him."

"No."

Rick's voice was so quiet, so low, but it rumbled with so much anger that Dawn faltered. Her shoulders drew in, hands twitched for her gun.

"You're an officer of the law, Dawn," Rick continued, and Daryl's gun was joined by another, not quite as close. "You're the government, and you uphold the law. Disasters don't change that, and the constitution still exists. If Noah wants to come with us, he will, and if anyone else wants to, they will."

"You can't do that!"

"It's a free country." Rick's smile was empty, and his chuckle malicious. A shiver ran through Daryl. A man in a lab coat from the other end of the hall raised his hand, shaking terribly.

"I want to go with you," his voice was high and thin. Dawn's eyes widened.

"You will not leave this hospital alive, doctor," Daryl pressed the barrel of his gun so hard to her head that he could feel her move back.

"He will, and anyone else will, too," Rick was not budging.

"There are others who want to leave."

"Get them."

There was silence. Guns were still drawn, starting to tremble in the hands of those unsteady. The doctor nearly ran from them, and came back after. . . hours? Days? Minutes? Daryl wasn't sure, but he came back with a small group, and they crossed the threshold. Dawn's hand landed on her gun, and Rick's safety clicked.

"Does anyone else want to come?"

None of the cops moved. Fair enough.

"We are leaving. You won't follow us," Rick put his open palm in Dawn's face. "Give me your gun."

She did. All of them could breathe again, and hope crept into Daryl's fingertips. Guns lowered, footsteps sounded around him, and they were outside again, the sun a beacon shining so bright that he thought he would go blind.

"Don't let down your guard," Rick said, and Daryl looked behind him. There were faces in the windows up top, the cops from the hallway, watching them. He felt someone's hand in his, suddenly, and Beth's arm was pressed to his. He didn't look down. They walked through the parking lot, and no one followed. They made their way across town, and no one followed. Daryl didn't let go of her hand once, no matter how sweaty their palms got, no matter how much he trembled or how much she shook.

Maggie and Glenn were on them before the group could see them, and Beth's hand was ripped from his. Anxiety chased after him like a dog, and Daryl nearly drew his gun again before he realized who was there. Maggie's laughter was loud, guffawing, filled with sniffling and blubbering. Beth's laugh, _oh_ , Beth's laugh was bright and clear and like the tinkling of bells. They were inseparable, so happy to be together again. Glenn joined them soon after, wife and sister, because  _of course_ Beth was his sister. Daryl stepped back to give them a moment as the group celebrated, and caught Carol's eye seconds before catching her up in a bear hug. She laughed, too, so loud and ridiculous that he kissed her cheek and ruffled her hair.

"Missed me?" she asked, an expression half smile, half smirk gracing her beautiful face. Daryl pressed a kiss to her forehead for good measure.

"Y'got no idea," he murmured, and hugged her again, a little less happy and a little more _I thought you were lost forever and I would never see you again_. Carol gave it back tenfold.

"Daryl?" Beth's voice was nervous, excitement permeated with joy, and his heart swelled. He pulled away from Carol to see Beth's tear-stained face smiling so bright the hot southern sun suddenly seemed dim. He reached out to her, hand shaking. She took it between her own, brought it to her mouth for a gentle, gentle kiss. He couldn't breathe.

Suddenly she was in his arms, tight against him, and his mouth was pressed to her's, so sweet and soft and full of the fire that never left them. It was just them, just the two of them, and Daryl's hands threaded through her hair, cupped her face with such tenderness that he'd never shown anyone. Her arms were 'round his neck lazily, but her lips were insistent on his, teeth nipping and laughter swallowed by his own mouth. She made a quiet sound that he took in, too, and their kisses would never end. He didn't know how long they kissed, didn't care if they never stopped, if he never tasted anything but her sweetness ever again, never felt anything but her breath on his cheek and her heat surrounding him.

Finally, _finally_ , he was kissing her, and it was better than he'd ever hoped or dreamed. Every regret was washed away in the feel of her soft lips. It took a great howling of laughter from Maggie to break their kisses, both of them breathless and giggling, smiling so hard their cheeks could burst.

"At least we know Daddy would approve," Beth beamed at Maggie's words, and pressed her forehead to Daryl's with as much tenderness as he showed her. "Don't go breaking her heart, Daryl, or I'll break yer face."

He grunted an affirmation, eyes not leaving Beth. He would break his own face if he hurt her. She laid her head in the crook of his neck, pressed more kisses wherever she could reach.

"We need to find somewhere safe tonight," Rick said, sounding more amused than annoyed, and Daryl reluctantly let his arms go loose. He turned in Beth's arms to face the rest of them, then stooped down. Her laughter filled the air again, and she smacked his back.

"Be serious!"

"I don't give nothin' but serious piggybacks, Miss Greene," he winked over his shoulder at her.

More laughter spread through the group. Euphoria settled over them, a happiness they hadn't reached in so long that they didn't realize how hungry they were for it. Beth wrapped her legs and arms around him, kissed his neck some more.

"It's about time, Mr. Dixon," she said. "It's about time."


End file.
